


Turbulence

by LivinOnARarePair



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, Multi, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 09:39:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4914526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivinOnARarePair/pseuds/LivinOnARarePair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four boys figure out what a bumpy ride hockey can be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turbulence

As is tradition, the team gathers in Pascal’s front room on trade deadline day, the whole team coming together for support and to stare uneasily at the grandfather clock until the deadline ticks past. They have all their phones lined up around the edges of the coffee table, dragged in from the living room, something they do so everyone knows the minute it happens and can be appropriately supportive.

Three o’clock comes and goes.

“Is it over?” someone asks quietly.

“It’s never over,” comes a gruff voice.

The minutes tick by without disaster, and some of the guys that are for sure safe (Sid, Geno, and, after a moment of hesitation, Flower) start to pick up their phones, and conversation slowly picks up. Beau stays put because he’s comfortable tucked under Robert’s arm. Robert’s warm, and Beau starts to doze off. He startles awake to dead silence in the room, Robert leaning forward to pick up his phone, screen lit. He answers it there, surrounded by his teammates. He doesn’t say much.

“St. Louis,” he says when he hangs up, eyes on the floor.

“What?” The word is raw, torn from Beau’s throat.

Robert won’t look at him.

“Borts,” Beau says, pulling himself upright and turning to face Robert, hands falling on broad, familiar shoulders to keep himself balanced. “Tell me it’s not true,” he pleads.

“I’m sorry, Beau,” Robert says quietly.

“No,” Beau says, shaking his head. “No, Borts.”

“I’m sorry, Beau,” Robert says again, voice cracking. He pulls Beau into a tight hug. “I have to go. I’ll see you at home-- at the apartment, okay?”

“Borts, no,” Beau says, clinging.

“I’m sorry, Beau,” Robert says, a record skipping, and he passes Beau into the hands of a teammate.

Beau struggles, because this can _not_ be happening, but his teammate holds him tight. He hears the front door close, heart sinking, and he goes still. The teammate holding him, Pascal, it turns out, doesn’t try to tell him it’ll be okay, and for that, Beau is grateful. He sits there numbly while Simon gets his own fateful call, and then an extra hour until they can be sure the rest of them are safe.

*********

Beau’s still red-faced when Pascal drops him off outside. Robert wraps his arm around Beau’s shoulders and leads him inside. He guides them to the couch and lets Beau crumple against his chest, arms around him like he can hold him together. They stay there for a long while, just clinging to each other like if they hold on tight enough, they won’t have to ever let go. Finally, Robert urges them upstairs, trying not to say that they should make their final night together meaningful. He leads them to Beau’s room, his own door shut to a half-packed room. Beau doesn’t need to see that now. They fall together on the unmade bed, the collection of pillows strewn on the floor where they’ve been for as long as they’ve been sharing a bed. Beau kisses Robert fiercely, like that will keep Robert with him, and Robert crushes him tighter against himself.

They strip each other desperately, Beau’s hands shaking. Robert tries to stay steady, stay strong for the smaller boy, but he’s falling apart inside just as badly. Robert starts to prep him, but Beau pushes his hand away before he’s even pushed a third finger in and sinks down on him with a faint noise of discomfort. It’s broken and hollow, like Beau’s giving up, and Robert hates it, wants to make all of this go away for Beau, wants to see his sunny smile, hear his full, unbound laughter, but he can’t. He _can’t_ , and that’s almost worse than getting traded in the first place.

“You’re going to feel that tomorrow,” he scolds half-heartedly.

“I _want_ to feel it tomorrow,” Beau says and starts to move.

They stay up all night, entwined together, sometimes moving in rhythm, sometimes laying perfectly still. When they do sleep, it’s fitful and only for very small spaces of time. Sometimes Beau cries, and Robert wonders if he realises he’s doing it. Sometimes Beau’s on top, and sometimes Robert holds him down and tries to convey with the rhythm of his hips, the caress of his hands all the words they’ve never been able to speak aloud. Sometimes he wonders who’s clinging harder to the final threads, Beau or himself.

He keeps Beau close, and Beau doesn’t try to stray.

Sometime past sunrise, Beau finally falls into a good sleep, breathing deep and laying still in Robert’s arms. Robert doesn’t want to leave this, ever, but he has a flight to catch. He carefully extracts himself.

*********

Beau wakes up alone. There’s a note on the pillow by his side, in the indent, the memory.

_Beau--_

_I’m sorry I didn’t wake you, but I thought it would be easier this way. You should know that I love you, that I always have and always will. That this doesn’t change anything._

_Love always, Borts_

Beau holds the note to his chest and tries to breathe, but it’s hard. The sound of his phone chiming with Robert’s custom ringtone breaks the shell of his pain, a slight ray of pale, dim light in this storm. He snatches his phone off the nightstand, holding on to it like a lifeline.

_Skype?_ is all the message says.

Beau doesn’t bother answering, just gets his laptop, opens Skype, and makes the call.

“Hey, Beau,” Robert says. He looks exhausted.

“Borts,” Beau says, what feels like the only word he’ll ever be able to say again.

They talk for what could be days, but feels like mere minutes about nothing until they both have to go to practice, and Beau feels like he’s shattering again when he has to hang up, but then Robert tells him he loves him, and that’s enough to keep him together until they can talk again.

*********

With Robert and Simon both gone, Beau doesn’t really have anybody close to talk to. James is in Nashville, Olli’s still injured, and Megs is down in Wilkes-Barre, leaving Beau feeling lost and out of place on his own team. Surprisingly, or maybe not, it’s Paul that takes to him, talking to him during breaks and running one-on-ones with him, then spotting him when they go to do off-ice workouts.

As Beau’s getting ready to leave, Paul catches him with a hand on his shoulder. “Beau, listen. I know what you’re going through, and just know, if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here for you, okay?”

Beau tries to smile. “Thanks, Paulie.”

Paul leans up to kiss Beau’s forehead. “If you ever need anything, I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night, you can come to me.”

Beau nods and turns to go. Right now, he just wants to go home and call Robert.

*********

Beau comes back from the first practice without Robert exhausted, more so emotionally than physically. When he gets home, all he wants to do is call Robert and then nap until dinnertime, but when he pulls into the driveway, he sees the truck that’s parked in front of the house, a few burly guys in dirty shirts standing around gesturing to the house. Movers? The thought makes Beau’s stomach roll. They can’t be here to take Robert’s stuff. He’s not ready for that yet. He gets out of his Jeep feeling sick.

“Can I help you?” he says, voice more timid than he’d like.

“Yeah, we got a delivery for a Mr. Bennett?” says the guy that’s apparently in charge.

“That’s me,” Beau says.

The guy hands him a clipboard. “If you’ll sign here, we’ll bring it inside for you.” He looks at the front door again. “You got a back door we could bring this through?”

“Yeah, there’s a sliding glass in the back, but . . . Bring what in exactly?”

He’s not expecting anything, certainly not anything that wouldn’t fit through the front door. Robert . . . Maybe Robert finally came around to the pinball machine idea, and this was supposed to be a surprise. Beau’s heart sinks. Clipboard-Guy isn’t answering him, so he just signs and hands it back.

“Around back, boys!” calls Clipboard-Guy to the other men standing around.

A few of the men go to haul something massive out of the truck. Beau can’t tell what it is because it’s covered with a moving blanket. He goes inside to unlock the back door for the men, and they haul the behemoth in. They take it into the living room, the only place it will fit. Finally, the blanket comes off, and it’s . . . 

It’s a piano. A sleek black baby grand.

“This can’t be right. You must have the wrong address,” Beau says. He can’t take his eyes off it. Lead Mover Guy reads the address, and Beau confirms it’s right. The accompanying bench is set in place, and the movers leave.

Beau marvels. He opens the lid, and there he finds a letter. It’s from Robert, saying this is Beau’s anniversary present, that he loves him, no matter where either of them ends up. Beau thinks back to when they’d finally gotten together. It had been after they both made it through trade deadline last year, and Robert had taken him home and told him he didn’t want to lose him, wanted to get to do _this_ while they had the time together, wanted to be able to do it as often as possible. Then he’d kissed Beau.

And then he’d taken Beau upstairs and they’d spent two blissful hours in bed.

Beau sits down on the bench to play. He plays a handful of scales, and the piano is tuned to perfection. His fingers settle on the keys, but he doesn’t press them. A piano this beautiful, it deserves an audience. He picks up his phone and almost calls Robert.

Almost.

At the last second, he texts Paul instead. _Come over?_

In less than a minute, he gets back, _Be there in 5._

Beau waits in silence, wave after wave of guilt crashing over him. Is this being unfaithful to Robert? It’s not like he’s going to have sex with Paul. He’s just going to play piano for him. On the piano Robert got him for their anniversary. He feels terrible, but before he can figure a way out of it, Paul’s coming through the front door. He’s got a key to the house, and Beau’s weirdly grateful that he uses it.

“Hey, Beau,” Paul says with a smile. “Where’d this come from?”

“Um, Borts,” Beau says. “Anniversary present.”

“Wow,” Paul breathes, eyes going wide as they trace over the piano.

“So I, uh . . . Needed somebody to play it for,” Beau says, eyes fixed on the keys.

“I’m honoured,” Paul says quietly, and he pulls up a chair close to the piano. Beau can tell that he means his words, and if anything, that makes it worse.

Beau nods and takes a deep breath. Better to get this over with. He settles his hands on the keys and starts to play. He throws himself into the song and then starts playing another before he has time to think about it. He makes it through a third song before he lets his hands fall away from the keys. He still doesn’t want to look up.

“That was really beautiful, Beau,” Paul says quietly.

“Thanks,” Beau says.

“You’re really good at that,” Paul says. “Thank you for letting me listen.”

It feels weird. Or rather, like it should feel weird. Because it doesn’t. Not really. Paul’s being really nice, not pushing for more than Beau’s ready to give, not making any comment about how this show should be for Robert.

Beau nods.

“Beau,” Paul sounds like he wants to say something, and if it’s going to get awkward, this is it. But it doesn’t get awkward. “You look so lonely. Would you . . . Would you let me cook you dinner?”

It’s such a strange request. But given Paul’s history with James, Beau supposes it makes sense. “That would be really nice,” he says, finally looking up. “Thanks, Paulie.”

Paul smiles as he stands and pats Beau’s shoulder when he walks by on his way into the kitchen. “You can keep playing; I’m listening.”

He goes into the kitchen, and Beau lays into the keys again, feeling just a bit lighter than he has in the last couple of days. Paul fixes them dinner, and they eat together in the living room with something stupid playing on the television. They laugh together, and Beau actually feels _good_.

Paul leaves a few hours later, and Beau goes upstairs and gets ready for bed. As he’s brushing his teeth, he sees Robert’s toothbrush still in the cup by the sink, and the guilt creeps in again. He didn’t even think about calling Robert since he invited Paul over. He’s a terrible, _awful_ boyfriend. He texts Robert, asking if they can Skype, but Robert doesn’t text back. He’s probably already in bed.

Beau doesn’t sleep that night.

*********

Beau calls Robert after practice the next day, when he should be napping before they have to fly out that night. He must tell Robert he loves him at least a dozen times in the span of an hour, but he still can’t shake the feeling of guilt.

It only gets worse when they get on the plane and he passes out on Paul’s shoulder because he hasn’t been sleeping well, and he’s fucking exhausted. But it’s ridiculous. Paul said he’s there for Beau, whatever he needs, and what Beau needs is a pillow. It’s not bad. He’s not doing anything wrong.

He calls Robert after another sleepless night.

“So I’ve been hanging out with Paul a lot,” Beau blurts out.

“Yeah? That’s good. Paul’s a good guy,” Robert says. And he’s not questioning Beau. He trusts him. Beau doesn’t have anything to feel guilty for.

*********

“’lo?”

“Hey, Beau,” Paul says softly. “Did I wake you?”

“Hm,” Beau groans softly. “Just a little bit.”

“Sorry,” Paul says, keeping his tone low.

“It’s okay,” Beau says, exhaling as he sits up in bed, dragging himself into consciousness. “What’s up?”

“Just wanted to see if you maybe wanted to . . . Come over,” Paul says.

“Uh,” Beau says. He checks the clock. It’s late, probably too late to be doing this, but . . . “Yeah, sure. I’ll be there in ten.”

They don’t say much after that, but they don’t hang up, and as promised, ten minutes later, Beau’s letting himself into Paul’s house with the spare key Paul gave him. Paul meets him in the front room, greeting him with a chaste kiss, then taking his hand and leading him into the living room. They sit together on the couch, Paul tugging Beau over to lean against him. They keep the television turned down low; there’s nothing on this time of night, but neither of them is watching anyway. Instead, they take turns dozing and watching the blades of the fan go around.

“How you doing, kiddo?” Paul murmurs, leaning down to kiss Beau’s temple.

“Hm,” Beau hums, tipping his head back against Paul’s chest. “Lonely.”

Paul nods. “I know.” He tips his head down to press a kiss to the soft skin behind Beau’s ear. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” Beau whispers and tilts his head back on Paul’s shoulder. Paul kisses his cheek, then his jaw. Beau sighs contentedly, and Paul wraps his arms around Beau’s middle and squeezes gently.

“I miss him,” Beau murmurs, and Paul leans down til they’re only a breath apart.

“I know,” he murmurs against the other boy’s lips.

“Does it ever get easier?” Beau whispers.

Paul shakes his head slightly. “No.”

Beau trembles in his hold, and Paul covers the younger boy’s mouth with his own.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

Beau makes a wounded noise, and Paul holds him tighter, like he can hold the younger boy together. Beau shakes in his arms, and Paul feels so bad for him. He kisses him again, trying to make it better, but there’s nothing that can ease this ache . . . .

Beau wakes with a start, sitting bolt upright in his bed, sweat-soaked and heart pounding. He tucks his knees to his chest and just sits there, staring off into the dark until his alarm goes off.

*********

They develop a nightly routine.

Beau is exhausted, but he calls Robert anyway. Robert doesn’t answer until the fifth ring, but he answers.

“Yeah?” He’s obviously just woke up.

“Hey, Borts,” Beau murmurs, curled up in his cold bed, alone in the dark.

“Beau, hey,” Robert says, more awake now. “What’s up?”

Beau shrugs, even though Robert can’t see him. “Just wanted to call and say hey.”

“Hey,” Robert says.

“Hey,” Beau smiles sleepily.

They don’t say much after that. Each asks how the other is doing, but neither says much, the _wish you had been there_ implied in every sentence.

They say _I miss you_ a lot, usually between long pauses of silence when they doze in and out together. They’re both exhausted, but this is tradition now. They’ll call each other every night, no matter what.

Beau eventually falls asleep, and Robert does too, neither of them ending the call. In the morning, their phones will be dead, and they’ll charge them all day and do it again the next night.

Beau needs this. They haven’t slept apart in over a year, and they’re not about to start. Beau can’t sleep without at least hearing Robert breathing next to him. His pillow collection, the badge of his loneliness, has found its way back onto the bed, surrounding him, but not warm nor solid like Robert. Beau doesn’t sleep very well.

*********

When the Pens and the Blues play each other, Robert comes over, and they spend the whole day on the couch together. Beau doesn’t want to go into either of their bedrooms; the sacredness of that has been broken, so they stay downstairs. They put on their favourite movie and then don’t watch it, instead communicating how much they’ve missed each other in the rhythm of hips and hands, heartbeats aching together.

In the waning afternoon sunlight, they fall asleep together, Robert wrapped around Beau, holding him close, and Beau clinging like he’ll never let go.

*********

Robert scores his first goal as a Blue against the Pens the next night. Beau can’t bring himself to be frustrated with the loss.

*********

After the game against the Blues, Beau can’t stand to stay in the townhouse he and Robert had lived in together. When Beau wakes up to too quiet the day after the game, he knows he can’t stay there. He showers, dresses as quickly as he can, and leaves.

He ends up at Paul’s, and the older man doesn’t seem surprised to see him there, just lets him in and leads him to the kitchen. Beau sits at the counter, and Paul goes back to making breakfast. A few minutes later, there’s a heaping plate being pushed in front of Beau. He looks up at Paul, but the older man is back to cooking, so he digs in. Paul comes back a few minutes later with his own plate, sitting down across from Beau. He reaches over and takes Beau’s left hand in his.

“How are your eggs?” he asks, not looking up from their hands. There’s a far-away look in his eyes that tells Beau he’s not in this moment right now.

“They’re good,” he says.

“Not too runny?” Paul asks.

“Nope,” Beau says.

Paul smiles and pats his hand. “Good,” he says and starts in on his own breakfast.

For a moment, Beau’s a little weirded out because okay, what just happened? Then he remembers: Nealer used to do this. That must have been where Paul was. Back then. Beau wants to get up and hug Paul, but he doesn’t. Instead, they finish their breakfast and Paul gives Beau a ride to practice.

After practice, Beau just wants to nap. Paul drives them back to his own house and invites Beau to stay even before he can ask. Beau says he might not be the best company, and Paul says it’s fine, Beau can nap if he wants to. So they go to sit in the living room, sitting on either end of the couch. Beau quickly gets sleepy and lays down. His head ends up in Paul’s lap, and he’s about to move when Paul lays a gentle hand on his shoulder. Beau lays back down, and Paul starts to stroke his fingers through Beau’s hair. It feels amazing; Robert used to do this for him when they napped together. It doesn’t take long for Beau to fall asleep, and he sleeps well for the first time in a while.

When Beau wakes up, Paul’s still there, and for one painful moment, Beau thinks it’s Robert. Then he remembers. He sits up, rubbing part sleep, part sadness from his eyes.

“Hey,” Paul says softly. “You ready for dinner?”

Beau nods.

“Okay,” Paul says, squeezing Beau’s hand once before getting up to go cook.

When Paul leaves, Beau looks around. Paul’s neat, his house pristine except for the books stacked lovingly not-straight on every flat surface. There’s one on the side table with a bookmark in it. Before Beau can look at it, Paul comes back.

“How do you feel about spaghetti?”

“I like spaghetti,” Beau says.

“Great,” Paul smiles and disappears again.

After dinner, Beau reluctantly goes back to his cold, quiet, empty house. He Skypes with Robert, tells him about spending most of the day with Paul. Robert tells him gently that he can sell the house if he wants to move in with Paul. The thought hadn’t occurred to Beau, but now he kind of likes the idea.

*********

Beau’s back at Paul’s the next morning for breakfast and goes to and from practice with him, then naps on him and has dinner with him. At the end of the night, he goes back to his house. The next morning, he brings an overnight bag and spends the night, then “accidentally” leaves it there. He slowly starts moving his stuff into Paul’s spare room and spending more nights there.

“You know you can just move in if you want,” Paul says one day when Beau is fading fast on the couch after dinner.

“Hm?” Beau hums sleepily.

“Move in,” Paul repeats, reaching up to stroke his fingers through Beau’s hair. “I did notice you moving all your stuff into my spare room.”

“Oh,” Beau says.

“It’s okay,” Paul says. “If you want to.”

The next day, Paul drives to Beau’s house armed with a backseat full of boxes. He helps Beau pack up the last of his stuff, then drives half back to his house, leaving Beau alone to say goodbye. He does, moving from now impersonal room to cold, empty room, and remembering. The kitchen counter where he and Robert first kissed. Robert’s bedroom, the door still closed, where he gave Robert his body, mind, and soul. The couch on which they spent their last day together.

Finally, he drives to Paul’s, backseat loaded with boxes of Robert’s sweatshirts, tickets from movies they’d seen together, pictures from summers spent together. The only personal touch that stays is the piano because Beau knows not to cross that line. He can come over to play it anytime he wants, he knows. But taking it out of his and Robert’s house would just be too much.

And he drives away. He’ll keep the house until summer, but for now, he just can’t stay there. This is for the best. 

His heart aches anyway.

*********

Beau and Paul find a routine, moving around each other with ease and making themselves scarce during nightly phone and Skype calls to James and Robert. Beau spends most days at Paul’s when they’re not on the road, but sometimes, he goes back to his and Robert’s house to play his piano or to Skype Robert when he wants a little more privacy. On one such morning, he’s on the couch in the living room listening to the lightning crack and the thunder rumble outside when his laptop chimes with the call.

“Borts, my main man! Wait, what’s wrong?” Beau says when he answers.

On the screen, Robert looks fucking miserable, unkempt with his head propped on his hands. “Beau, there’s something I have to tell you.”

The Blues won last night, spectacularly; shouldn’t Robert be happy?

The thunder outside booms loud enough to shake the house. Beau turns the volume up on his laptop. “What’s up?” he asks.

Robert’s voice comes through sounding thin and tinny. “I slept with Tarasenko last night.”

“You . . . What?” Beau asks, because he must have misheard.

Robert goes on, voice becoming a sledgehammer tearing through Beau. “Just . . . He scored a hat trick last night, and you know how hat tricks get me. We went out to celebrate, and . . . God, I was so fucking wasted, and he’s kinda small like you . . . . I didn’t mean for it to happen. Beau, I’m so sorry.”

Beau is shocked into silence. He doesn’t hear Robert’s voice pleading with him to understand. He just stands up and leaves, not registering whether or not he’s disconnected the call and not caring. Outside, he gets drenched in the rain, but he doesn’t turn back for a jacket. He turns left and starts walking.

Beau doesn’t know where he’s going until he’s there, on Paul’s doorstep.

“Beau, come in. You’re going to freeze out there,” Paul says when he opens the door, reaching out to wrap strong fingers around Beau’s arm and pull him into the house. It doesn’t take long for Paul to figure out something’s off. “What’s wrong?” he asks after he’s closed the door to the driving rain.

And that’s when Beau loses it. He launches himself into Paul’s arms, holding tight, just needing something solid to hang on to right now. Paul, for his part, catches Beau in a strong, comforting embrace.

“Honey, what happened?” Paul asks, soothing, like a parent to a child.

Beau doesn’t say anything, can’t. He just holds on to Paul like a lifeline. And then, before the idea is even fully formed in his head, he’s kissing Paul. And . . . Paul’s kissing back. Tentatively, but still. Beau’s hands grow desperate, tugging at Paul’s shirt. Paul covers Beau’s hands with his own and breaks their kiss, but it isn’t to reprimand, as Beau momentarily feared.

Instead, he asks, “Is this what you need right now?” And at Beau’s nod, “Alright, but let’s at least take this upstairs, yeah?”

Paul leads Beau up the stairs and into his bedroom, closing the door behind them. He lays Beau down so gently and gets them both naked when Beau’s hands shake too badly to be of much use. Paul kisses him sweetly and preps him with steady, gentle hands. It’s strange at first; Robert’s the only one who’s ever done this for him, but Paul’s really good, makes Beau feel comfortable, makes sure every step of the way that it’s still what Beau wants. And Beau does. It’s an overwhelming thought, but the way Paul touches him, so carefully and gently, it takes Beau’s trepidation away.

He lets Beau move on top and take control, set the rhythm and move how he likes. He continues to run his hands over Beau, and it’s . . . It’s something. Beau knows Robert loves him; he’s proved it over and over, but the way Paul’s touching him, Beau feels . . . Cherished. It’s a heady feeling.

After, they lay side-by-side in Paul’s bed, Paul’s arm around Beau, fingertips brushing absently up and down Beau’s back, the sheet pulled up to their hips, sweat still drying on their skin, and the rain still driving against the windowpane.

“Now do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” Paul asks softly.

Beau burrows further into Paul’s side. “Borts slept with Tarasenko,” he mumbles.

Paul doesn’t even flinch. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“What should I do?” Beau asks, emerging from where he’d pressed his face into Paul’s shoulder.

At this, Paul hesitates. Then he speaks, quietly but evenly. “When James first went to Nashville, we were both miserable. It just wasn’t working. But we wanted to stay together, so we developed a system. We can fulfill our physical needs with other people as long as we’re always emotionally faithful to each other and find our way back together. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Beau nods slowly. “I think so. Do you mean me and Borts should be like that?”

Paul shrugs. “It doesn’t work for everybody, but we’ve been happy.” He turns to look in Beau’s clear blue eyes. “You could give it a try; see if it works out.”

“I think . . . I think I’ll ask him next time we Skype, Beau says.

“Here, use my laptop,” Paul says, taking it from the nightstand and handing it to Beau. “I’m gonna go downstairs and make us some dinner.”

“Thanks, Paulie,” Beau says, and he smiles for the first time since that morning.

After a long heart-to-heart that includes discussions with Paul and James to talk about how they make it work, Beau and Robert come up with a similar kind of system.

*********

The season goes on. Beau continues to live with Paul with the addition that sometimes they have sex. And sometimes Beau spends the night in Paul’s bed which is . . . It’s actually kind of nice. Paul cuddles Beau in his sleep, and Beau kind of really likes that. He likes living with Paul. Paul’s . . . He’s really good to him. It’s maybe trying to become a problem, but Beau keeps pushing it down. He’ll deal with it, really. Just not right now.

*********

The Pens get knocked out in the first round of playoffs. No one was expecting them to get very far. Most doubted they’d even win a game, but they did, and that’s something at least. It sucks to be out for the season. Who knows what the offseason holds for any of them? Beau’s disappointed, but all he wants to do is get to Robert, spend some time with him in the summer. Pretend for just a little while before they have to go back to separate teams.

*********

“Beau, hey,” Paul says, catching the younger boy with one hand on his hip, the other cupping his cheek, and kissing him softly. “Come sit with me while I pack.”

Beau comes into the room and sits on Paul’s bed, propping up against the pillows, tucking his feet under the suitcase at the end of the bed. “Where are you going?”

“Nashville,” Paul says with a small smile. Beau loves that smile on him, the one that he gets when he’s thinking about James. The one that says he’s in love. “I’m driving down after locker clean out tomorrow to support James.”

“Oh,” Beau says. So he’ll have to leave.

Paul comes out of his closet folding a blaring yellow Neal shirt. “You could come with me,” he says, packing the shirt into his bag. “If you wanted to.”

Paul’s looking at him with the clearest blue-green eyes, and something in Beau twists. He tries to ignore it, but he’s slipping. Beau swallows and looks away. “Maybe.”

Paul reaches out to cover Beau’s hand with his own. “Think about it.”

Beau loves Robert, he does. But Paul’s just been so good to him these last few weeks. Paul seems to be so sure of himself and what they’re doing. Maybe Beau should just follow his lead. He takes one of the pillows and wraps both arms around it.

*********

The next evening, Paul lets them into James’s house with his spare key. He cuddles Beau on the couch while they watch the Preds get beat in Chicago. Paul fixes them dinner, and then he sends Beau upstairs and stays up to wait for James. Beau can’t sleep, and he’s still awake when James gets in, hears James and Paul go to bed together. In the room next door to them, he strokes himself, pressing his free hand to the adjoining wall, imagining he can feel the passion through it.

The thing is, Beau fell for James first. He even went so far as to push him up against a wall at the rink and kiss him, messy and desperate and entirely too teenager-like. James had pushed him away gently and told him he was with Paul. Beau had turned to Robert, and the attraction between them had begun to grow until it came to a head last year, after trade deadline day.

Beau loves Robert. But he also has some pretty strong feelings for Paul. And he’s still got kind of a big fat crush on James that has been apparently laying dormant for a couple years. It seems impossible, but . . . It’s starting to feel like a thing that could maybe happen. Beau doesn’t want to hope, so instead he locks himself in his room and dreams.

*********

The next night, Paul and James hold Beau between them while they watch the Blues get knocked out. After, he locks himself in his room and waits for Robert to Skype him. When the call comes through, Beau tells him everything, can’t hold it back any longer, and it all comes spilling out. Robert . . . He isn’t angry. After a heart-to-heart that stretches into the smallest hours of the night, they fall asleep together, physically and emotionally exhausted.

The next day, Robert shows up on James’s doorstep. After Paul fixes dinner and they all eat, Robert takes Beau upstairs and loves him until they both fall asleep in the sunrise. At one point in those tiny hours, Beau imagines he can hear the other couple next door, doing just the same. His eyes drift shut as he pictures it for just a second, all of them together, then his eyes snap open and lock on Robert’s as he comes between them.

*********

They don’t talk about it, just continue to all live together in James’s house. Then one morning, Beau stumbles downstairs too early to find Paul making coffee. Paul passes him a mug, catches his wrist, pulls him in, and kisses him. He smiles softly at a dazed Beau. “We’re ready when you are.”

After another heart-to-heart and an afternoon in bed, Beau and Robert go to Paul and James hand in hand. Paul smiles at them reassuringly, and James has got this amused smirk going on that is making Beau’s throat feel tight. Robert squeezes his hand, and when Beau looks at him, he smiles, putting Beau at ease. They’re in this together; Robert is by his side, no matter what. Paul takes James’s hand, then reaches out to take Beau’s free one as James takes Robert’s other hand. Together, the older pair leads them into their bedroom and closes the door behind them.

*********

This is it.

Beau is on edge. He’s ready to jump and run at any second, and Robert, still standing beside him, doesn’t seem to be doing much better. James seems as relaxed as ever, and Paul, as usual is the most at ease and confident. He strides to the windows and pulls the blinds shut, casting the room into half-light. Then he moves to sit on the edge of the bed and beckons Beau closer. For a moment, Beau can’t move, and it’s Robert that pushes him forward. He makes his way over to stand between Paul’s knees, and Paul smiles up at him.

“You okay there, kiddo?” he whispers.

Beau wants to nod, but he knows Paul will see right through him. Instead he says, “Kind of nervous.”

Paul nods. “I know. But it’s okay, yeah? We’re figuring it out.”

Beau nods, and Paul reaches up to cup his face between cool hands, pulling him down into a gentle kiss. Beau jumps in surprise, feeling his face heat, knowing he’s suddenly the centre of attention.

“Fuck.” And that’s . . . That’s _Robert_. That’s Robert turned on.

Gaining confidence, Beau tilts his head and deepens the kiss. Paul makes an encouraging little noise and drops his hands to Beau’s hips, tugging Beau in closer.

“What do you say?” James says behind them.

“I say . . . Let’s do it,” says Robert. 

Paul ducks his head to set his mouth on Beau’s neck, and Beau tilts his head back, catching the sight of James and Robert kissing. He watches as they figure each other out, and . . . It’s fucking hot. Beau moans a little at the sight, and the pair separates, James smirking in his direction.

“See something you like, punk?” he teases with a nickname Beau hasn’t heard in at least a year. He can only nod and watch as James comes closer, cupping Beau’s cheek and kissing him softly. “Missed you, kiddo.”

“Missed you,” Beau says, then dives in to kiss him again. He feels the bed dip beside them and breaks the kiss to see Robert sinking to sit on the edge of the bed beside Paul, looking nervous but not at all unhappy to be there.

“Hey,” Beau says with a faint smile.

“Hey, Beau,” Robert returns, reaching out to cup Beau’s hip, finding Paul’s hand still there. Beau feels Paul squeeze Robert’s hand before letting go to give Robert his place. Robert’s hand fits the curve of Beau’s hip perfectly, and it makes Beau’s breath catch a little because he _loves him_.

“Borts,” he breathes. “Borts, I love you.”

“You do?” Robert says with a smile, almost like he can’t believe it. “I love you, too, you know.”

Beau feels caught between them, and it’s . . . It’s a lot.

“Wait, wait. Hang on,” he says. The other three pull back nearly in unison. “I just . . . I need a second.”

“You want to just watch for a minute or two?” Paul asks quietly, and Beau nods. “Okay,” Paul says and lets Beau move away, settle back against the pillows on the bed. There’s quite a few of them, he notes. James must be really lonely here without Paul.

Paul turns to Robert, still sitting next to him.

“How are you feeling, Robert?” he asks, hand securing on Robert’s thigh, rubbing slowly.

“I’m . . . I’m good,” Robert says slowly. “Kind of nervous, but I think . . . I think this is going to be okay.”

“It’s going to be more than okay,” Paul promises and leans in to kiss Robert.

It’s quite the sight. Beau’s so used to Robert taking charge when they’re kissing, but Paul’s leading this one. It’s slow and careful, each getting a feel for the other. And the way Robert tilts his head and sinks into it, he must like what he feels.

The bed dips beside Beau, and he looks over to see James sitting beside him.

“You okay, kiddo?” he asks quietly.

Beau nods. “Just got a little . . . Overwhelmed there.”

James nods and holds his hand out, palm up, between them. Beau takes it with a smile.

“I know it’s a lot,” James says, looking at their hands, twined together. “But it’s going to be good, yeah?”

Beau nods. “Yeah. I can feel it.”

James laughs gently. “Yeah. We’re gonna make it.”

Beau can’t be sure what he means, but he believes James, and he squeezes his hand. They turn back to the other pair who are still lip-locked. Robert is sliding a hand up the back of Paul’s shirt, and Paul leans back just far enough to let him pull it off before moving to straddle Robert’s lap, kissing him again. Robert makes a noise of surprise, and his hands find bare skin again, fingertips tracing nonsensical patterns across Paul’s ribs.

“Paulie’s ruthless,” James chuckles.

Beau looks at him again, and there’s such a look of admiration on his face, and Beau can almost feel James’s love for Paul. He leans over and presses a kiss to James’s throat. James turns to him with the softest of smiles, reaching up to cup the back of Beau’s head and pull him into a kiss. It’s deep and so much more intimate than Beau was expecting. It feels like James is passing him secrets, then slipping inside to peek at the secrets Beau keeps in his very soul. It’s a little terrifying, but Beau opens up for him, lets him in.

“Alright, more nudity, all of you,” Paul says from the end of the bed.

James laughs at him. “Ruthless,” he says, shaking his head. He turns to Beau again. “You ready for this?”

Beau nods.

“Awesome,” James says, reaching over to tug Beau’s shirt up and off. Then he gets to work on Beau’s jeans. Beau’s breath catches, and James stops. “Okay?”

Beau nods. “Nerves,” he says with a nervous little laugh.

James smiles and leans in to kiss him as he gets Beau’s pants undone. He pushes his hand inside, pressing the heel of his hand against Beau’s half-hard cock. Beau makes a surprised little noise and pushes his hips up into the touch.

“There you go,” James murmurs, an encouragement.

“Hey, you too, dumbass,” Beau says, hands finding the tail of James’s t-shirt.

“That’s a nice thing to call someone you’re trying to have sex with,” James teases.

“You will anyway,” Beau says.

James shrugs. “You’re probably right,” he says and leans back to let Beau strip his shirt off. Over James’s shoulder, Beau catches a glimpse of Robert sitting naked on the end of the bed, Paul kneeling between his thighs.

“James,” he whispers, nudging the older boy. “Look.”

James sits back again and looks. He nudges Beau back. “Let’s get a closer look.”

They move down the bed together, sitting cross-legged on either side of Robert. They watch raptly as Paul nuzzles between Robert’s legs.

“Was wondering how long it would take you two to catch on,” he says, looking up at them, a mischievous look in his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Just get to it, would you?” James says. “We came down here for a show.”

Paul rolls his eyes, but he can’t keep the smile off his face. He slips a hand up Robert’s thigh. “Okay?”

Robert nods, running an overlarge hand through Paul’s hair.

Without further ado, Paul takes the head of Robert’s cock into his mouth. Robert gasps, like he’s surprised, and it quickly turns into a moan as Paul sinks further down, cheeks hollowing as he sucks. Paul flicks his eyes up to Beau, the look of mischief returning. Beau feels a hand on his thigh, and his eyes snap to Robert, who’s looking back at him, with a faint smile.

“Still with us there?” he teases softly.

“I’m here,” Beau says.

“Good,” Robert says, leaning in. Beau meets him halfway in a kiss that seems too gentle for their current situation but is perfect anyway. When he pulls back, he pats Beau’s thigh. “Get these off, eh?”

Beau slides off the bed, never taking his eyes off Robert and Paul, and he gets out of his jeans and boxers, only stumbling once. James is the only one who sees it, and he laughs at Beau, but Beau flips him off, so they’re basically even. He climbs back onto the bed, and Robert urges him closer, kissing him when he’s close enough and then wrapping a hand around his cock, making Beau jump.

“How is this fair?” James says from the other side of the bed. “How come I’m not getting any over here?”

Paul pulls off Robert’s cock with a filthy little _pop_ to say, “Because you’ve still got pants on, dumbass.”

“Why does everybody keep calling me that?” James grumbles, but he lays back to wiggle out of his jeans. He looks ridiculous, and Beau would laugh at him, but his mouth is kind of preoccupied with Robert’s tongue. But then Robert breaks the kiss.

“Come here, James,” Robert says. He twists a hand in James’s awful hair and tugs him closer to kiss him.

“Better, Hair Boy?” he smirks.

“Hm,” James hums contentedly. “Much.”

Robert moans suddenly. “Yeah, like that, Paulie.”

At that, Paul pulls off. “Not yet, Bortsy,” he murmurs, patting Robert’s thigh.

“Tease,” Robert accuses without heat.

“Told you,” James says. “Ruthless.”

“James,” Paul prompts. “Prep Beau.”

“What?” Beau squeaks.

“That okay?” James asks quietly.

Beau looks at him with wide eyes. “I, uh . . . _Yes_.”

“Great,” James says, kissing Beau once before moving up the bed to fish around in the bedside drawer. Paul stands and leans forward to kiss Beau deeply, and Beau can taste Robert in Paul’s mouth, and it’s fucking incredible. Paul kisses him deeper and deeper, easing him back onto the bed. He gets Beau laid back, completely open, pliant and easy.

“Hey, there,” Paul murmurs.

“Mm,” Beau hums.

It’s then that James comes back with the lube. “My turn?” he asks eagerly.

“Your turn,” Paul says, moving to the side.

James moves between Beau’s legs. “Hey,” he says with a smile.

“Hi,” Beau giggles.

“You good?” James asks, hand slipping up the inside of Beau’s thigh.

Beau trembles under the touch. He nods.

“Good,” James says with a smile. He leans down and kisses Beau’s thigh, and then again, higher this time. And then . . . Again, and oh, his mouth is right there. And then his mouth comes over Beau’s hole, hot, and wet, and not at all shy. Beau moans, can’t seem to contain it, because James’s mouth is doing things he’s never imagined. Beau’s suddenly on edge.

“James, wait. I’m gonna--”

James pulls back, leaving Beau on edge, shaking with it, unable to catch his breath.

“Paul Martin, you are one lucky man,” he grits out, trying to bring himself off the edge.

Paul chuckles. “Oh, I know.”

“You good now?” James asks.

“Not quite. Give me another minute,” Beau sighs. “Could I . . . Could I try that . . . On you?” he asks Paul tentatively.

“You sure?” Paul asks him.

Beau bites his lip and nods.

“Okay, baby,” Paul says, cupping Beau’s cheek and stroking his thumb over the younger boy’s bottom lip. “Where do you want me?”

“Up here,” Beau says, patting the bed over his head and turning over.

Paul moves, and Beau gets him to turn over on his front, Robert supplying a pillow to put under Paul’s hips to prop him up. Beau leans in tentatively, grazing his mouth over the swell of Paul’s ass. Paul shivers, and Beau figures he’s doing okay so far.

The bed dips beside them, and both boys look over to see James tucked between Robert’s legs, the pair kissing wetly.

“Seems they like our new arrangement,” Paul says, sounding amused.

Beau giggles. Paul looks over his shoulder to grin at the younger boy.

“You don’t have to do this, you know?” he says, growing serious again.

“I know,” Beau says. “I want to.”

“Okay, honey,” Paul says. “Have at it.”

Beau leans in tentatively and licks over Paul’s hole, making the older man shudder.

“Good?” Beau asks nervously.

“Great,” Paul sighs.

Beau takes a deep breath, leans in, and does it again. He just kind of goes for it after that, and by the sounds he’s making, Paul seems to be enjoying it. Beau lets go of his self-consciousness and really gets into it.

He turns around at the tap on his shoulder to find James leaning over while Robert sucks a mark just below his collarbone.

“He likes it when you finger him at the same time,” he whispers. “Get two fingers in him and stick your tongue in between, and he goes nuts.”

He turns back to Robert, and Beau goes back to work on Paul, taking the lube James hands him and slicking his finger up. He works one and then two into Paul who presses back against him. Beau hesitates and then does what James told him, scissoring his fingers apart and then leaning in and pressing his tongue in between. Paul moans, loud and unabashed, and it’s the best thing Beau’s ever heard. He does it again, and Paul _squirms_ , and Beau never knew he could have that kind of effect on Paul. He hears James snort a laugh, and the other boy pats Beau’s shoulder. “Atta boy, Beau.”

Beau keeps at it for a few more moments before Paul’s easing away from him. “Beau, you’re too good at that,” he says with a contented sigh, flopping over onto the pillows.

“Mind if I borrow this?” James says, tugging at Beau’s hip.

“Take him and his filthy mouth,” Paul says with a teasing grin, voice a little breathless.

“You’re not getting off that easy,” Robert says to the older man. “You’re mine now.”

“Well, damn,” Paul says, words practically dripping with sarcasm.

Beau watches as Robert pulls Paul closer and kisses him. Then his attention is directed elsewhere as he feels James’s slick fingers creep up the inside of his thigh. He pushes back into the touch, tucking his face into a stray pillow. James preps him as shamelessly as he does everything else, using more lube than he needs and getting it everywhere. And . . . They’re only going to get messier as the night goes on. The thought makes Beau’s hips jerk, and he feels James chuckle against his thigh, then press a kiss there.

He looks over to see Robert three fingers deep in Paul, the older man’s head tipped back, murmuring incoherently as Robert works his fingers inside him. Robert looks up and catches Beau’s eye, leaning over to kiss him once.

“Love you,” he murmurs.

“Love you,” Beau murmurs back.

Both of them go back to their respective men. Beau turns over to face James.

“Beau,” the older man says softly, pressing a kiss to Beau’s thigh. “Can I fuck you?”

Beau’s breath catches. “Please,” he whispers.

James grins. “Great,” he says, leaning up to kiss Beau before going to the nightstand to get a condom. Beau twists around to watch, and he sees James take out two foil packets, tossing one to the other pair on the bed. Paul plucks it from where it falls in the sheets and rips it open with his teeth, reaching down to roll it on to Robert without looking.

“Show-off,” James grumbles, struggling to tear open his own condom packet.

Beau takes it from him, tears the packet open with his teeth and reaches down to roll it on without looking, a crooked little smile gracing his features.

“Aren’t you cool?” James teases.

Beau nods. “Damn straight.”

James smirks and slaps Beau’s thigh. The sting of it makes Beau gasp and moan just a little. James raises an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me we’ve got another freak on our hands?”

“What do you mean?” Beau asks.

“Oh,” James says, a mischievous smirk sliding across his mouth. “Just you wait, Sunshine. Paulie’s got his quirks.”

“But he’s so calm and quiet,” Beau says.

“It’s always the quiet ones,” James says.

“Can’t wait,” Beau grins.

James nods. “You wanna do this?”

Beau nods slowly. “Yeah, James. Fuck me.”

James smiles. “Great.” He leans down to kiss Beau breathless before reaching down to line himself up. At the same time, like they know what each other are thinking, they look over to see Robert fucking Paul, driving the older man wild with it.

“Borts always had a talent for finding my sweet spot,” Beau murmurs.

“You know, I don’t bottom often, but I think I would for Borts if he’s that good at it. Usually Paulie lasts _forever_ ,” James muses.

They turn back to each other.

“Ready?” James asks, just above a whisper.

Beau nods, and James pushes in slow. He’s thicker than Paul, not as thick as Robert, and not quite as long as the either of them, but oh, does he feel incredible inside of Beau. He wraps a hand around Beau’s thigh, lifting his leg to wrap around James’s waist, and at this angle . . . Beau’s not going to last long.

He hears the strangled cry of Paul coming. He tilts his head up to look at the other pair, Paul rolling his hips erratically, riding out his release, Robert fucking him through it. It’s a fucking hot scene.

“I think that’s a record, Bortsy,” James says, sounding amused.

“Shut up, James,” Paul sighs weakly.

“Love you, too, babe,” James says, and drives into Beau.

Beau’s back comes up off the bed as a moan tears its way out of his throat. “There, James. Right fucking there.”

“I’m on it, bossy,” James teases.

“Is he always like this?” Beau asks between ragged breaths.

“Yep,” Paul says from somewhere further up the bed.

Beau looks over and Robert’s just watching James fuck Beau, stroking his cock slow enough it’s making Beau ache in sympathy.

“Come here,” Beau says, reaching out to tug at Robert’s arm.

“What?” the Canadian asks, dazed.

“Fuck my mouth, Borts,” Beau says, tugging Robert closer again. Robert finally gets with the program, moving to straddle Beau’s chest. Beau urges him forward, opening his mouth for Robert to slide in in one easy stroke. Beau gags a little at first, but he relaxes his throat, and they find a shallow rhythm together. It’s not the best blowjob Beau’s ever given, but it seems to be working for Robert. Beau tongues at the head of Robert’s cock just as James hits his sweet spot again, and that’s it for both of them.

Beau and Robert come together, James getting a hand on Beau to drag his orgasm out. Robert collapses on the bed beside Beau, and then Paul is crowding in to kiss Beau upside down, sharing Robert’s come between them. It’s so hot, Beau almost thinks he could go again, but he’s already come so hard, he knows he’s done for for the rest of the night. Beau collapses bonelessly as James pulls out. James starts up some ridiculous victory dance that could not look more silly.

“Yes! I lasted longest this time!” he crows.

“Shut up, James,” the other three chorus.

“You’re all a bunch of bullies,” James says, coming back over to the bed. “Now who’s going to help me out with this?”

“Do it yourself,” Paul says, urging the other two under the covers with him. “We want to watch.”

James huffs, but he gets up to kneel on the bed and strokes himself off, putting on a show for them. It doesn’t take him long to come, striping up his own chest. He works himself through it, then collapses onto the bed. “Awesome. Can I lay with you guys now?”

“Yes, James. You can lay with us,” Paul says with a fond smile.

Beau lifts the covers, and James climbs in beside him, curling up against Beau and getting come on him. Beau thinks about whining about it, but they’re all kind of gross right now. Besides, it’s kind of nice, curled up with . . . With his boys.

“This is going to be really great, isn’t it?” he murmurs, suddenly sleepy.

Paul smiles and kisses him. “Yeah, it is.”

They look to the other two boys for their agreement, but they’re both already asleep. Beau and Paul share a fond eye roll, and then snuggle up to sleep as well.

*********

The summer goes on. They continue to live together in James’s house. There’s just one problem. Paul’s a free agent. He’s constantly talking with his agent, the Pens . . . Other teams. Beau’s uneasy, to say the least.

*********

When Paul’s phone rings, Beau’s heart drops a little. It’s a reaction he’s used to by now, one that stems from the memory of sitting next to James last year at Nisky’s wedding. Ever since, he’s hated phones ringing in the offseason. This one he’s particularly wary of.

Paul squeezes Beau’s knee with an apologetic smile before getting up and leaving the room to take the call. Beau holds his breath, and his lungs are just starting to burn when Paul returns. He doesn’t think he’s supposed to see the subtle nod Paul sends James’s way . . . But he does.

“Beau, honey, can I talk to you for a sec?” Paul asks from the doorway.

Beau’s heart drops further as he plies his way from between Robert and James. Why would Paul only want to talk to him unless . . . Unless he . . .

Paul takes his hand and leads him to the bedroom. They sit together on the end of the bed, and Paul takes both of Beau’s hands in his own.

“Beau,” he says quietly. “You know I love you, right?”

Beau nods.

“And as much as I don’t want to leave you . . . I’m not going to be your teammate next year.”

Beau drops his head. In the back of his mind, he was expecting this. “Where?” he whispers.

“San Jose,” Paul says quietly.

Beau balks. “That’s on the other side of the country! You’ll be in a different conference; I’ll never get to see you!”

“You will, baby. I promise,” Paul practically pleads. “We’ll play each other, and the four of us are going to get together during breaks. We’re going to Skype and call, and no matter how far apart the four of us are, we are going to stay together.”

He sounds so adamant that Beau can only believe him. Still, he whispers, “Promise?”

Paul smiles at him, small and sad, and Beau’s heart breaks. “I promise, Beau.”

“Okay,” Beau nods. His heart’s still aching somewhere behind his bellybutton, but he knows they’ll figure out a way to make it work.

Paul squeezes Beau’s hands. “Will you help me tell our boys?”

Beau nods, and they go back to the living room where Robert and James are still sprawled over each other on the couch.

“Where you off to, Paulie?” James asks, not looking away from the television.

“San Jose,” Paul says, sitting on the arm of the couch beside him.

“Western Conference buddies,” Robert says, and Beau immediately feels alone.

*********

Beau camps out in a spare room for a couple days, only coming out to eat at weird times so he won’t run into the other guys. He lets Robert in of the night, lets Robert curl around him and hold him close while Beau struggles to sleep. After three days, he comes out of his room late in the afternoon because he realises he doesn’t want to miss another second with his boys. He finds them in the den watching some stupid movie and settles himself in Paul’s lap, stretching his legs across so he’s touching the other two. He curls up, gets comfortable, and Paul cuddles him, holds him tight and doesn’t say a word. Finally, Beau sleeps restfully.

The next day, they each pack a bag and distribute themselves between James’s truck and Paul’s car, and they drive back to Pittsburgh to pack up Paul’s house. It’s late when they get there, so they crowd into Paul’s shower together to wash the road off themselves. There’s not quite room for all of them, but they crowd in anyway, pushing each other up against the walls, slick skin pressing.

They lose themselves in each other there, hands fumbling, slipping, curses and cut off sounds getting whisked away with the water they’re basically unaware of. Beau ends up in the middle at one point, all three of his boys touching him from every side. He loses track of whose hands are where, whose mouth is doing what, and then in one moment, he loses track of where he is, rocking up onto his toes, pushing his hips into someone’s touch, crying out loud. He loses his balance, and his boys are there to hold him up. He finds a patch of cool tile and leans up against it to catch his breath, watching the other three. 

James holds Paul upright while Robert sinks to his knees in front of the older boy. He’s pretty much back to the wall like this, will be trapped between the wall and Paul until Paul decides to let him go. It’s James that gets a hand tangled in Robert’s wet hair and uses that grip to fuck Robert’s mouth on Paul’s cock. Robert takes it so easily, his hands resting on Paul’s thighs. Paul’s making these overwhelmed little noises, his head tipped back on James’s shoulder, eyes shut tight. He writhes when he comes, like it’s too much, gasping half formed curses. He goes boneless in James’s hold, and the younger boy all but passes Paul into Beau’s arms, before pulling Robert upright and seizing him in a kiss that’s filthy from the start.

Then Paul’s kissing Beau, less restrained than usual. Sometimes he keeps it slow, and sometimes he just _takes_ , fucking his tongue into Beau’s mouth. Beau whimpers into it and letting Paul do whatever he wants. They break apart to watch the other two who are still lip-locked and taking turns pushing each other up against first the tile wall, then the glass wall, and back and forth, each trying to take control while simultaneously giving in to the other.

It’s Robert that finally gets a slick hand around both of them and strokes roughly. James is backed up against the glass wall when he comes, and his hand reaches for anything to hold onto to keep him grounded. Without hesitation, Beau puts his hand out for James to take. James does, hangs on to him like a lifeline as he comes. Robert works him through it, dragging it out as much as he can, drawing it out of James. James eventually slumps against the wall, his grip on Beau’s hand going slack although he doesn’t let go. Robert lets go of him, and James all but falls sideways. Paul catches him and nudges Beau towards Robert with a knowing little smile.

A second later, they’re gone, but Beau barely notices because he’s standing in front of Robert, looking up at him. Robert looks right back like he can’t believe Beau is here with him, unusually dark eyes gone even darker with desire, water sticking to his impossibly long eyelashes. Beau surges up to kiss him because he can’t handle Robert looking at him like that, like he loves him and more than that. Their bodies crash together wetly, and not even the water can slip between them now. Beau knows he should do something to help Robert get off, but he doesn’t want to leave this, this complete and total _contact_. They’re joined together as closely as they can be without being in the same skin, and Beau never wants to break away from Robert again, doesn’t think he could stand it.

Robert reaches down, gets his hands around Beau’s thighs and picks him up. Beau squeaks into the kiss and wraps his legs around Robert’s waist. The glass wall is cold at his back, and he shivers, and Robert holds him that much closer, licking deep into Beau’s mouth, and a different kind of shiver runs through Beau, warming him through to the fingertips, tingling with what feels like electricity. Robert’s hips nudge against him, and Beau rolls his own experimentally. It must do it for Robert because he breaks their kiss to moan softly and lean down to set his teeth on Beau’s neck, sucking a mark that Beau already knows he’ll be carrying for days. They move together without rhythm until Robert loses himself and comes between them, binding them together.

He sets Beau down gently, and they catch their breath together, sharing air as the water starts to turn cold. They shiver away from it together. It’s Robert that reaches over to turn the water off, and Beau leads the way out of the shower. Their boys are there with towels for them. Paul drops a blue one over Beau’s head and scrubs at his hair, and Beau laughs. When he emerges, he sees James standing on tiptoe to do the same to Robert, the taller boy swatting blindly at him. Finally, James lets up and Robert comes out with his hair sticking up in every direction, and Beau knows he probably looks just as ridiculous, and he grins so hard his face hurts. Robert chases after James, and the other two follow, much more composed, and they find Robert holding James down on the bed. The older boy is laughing nervously, trying to get away, but it’s no use.

Paul takes Beau’s hands, and when Beau looks over at him, he smiles softly. He leads Beau to the upper end of the bed, gets Beau to sit on the edge and kisses him sweetly. He kisses Beau dizzy, then gently eases him back on the bed before kneeling between his legs, wrapping his hands around Beau’s thighs to keep him in place before taking Beau into his mouth. Beau whines incoherently, and his hips jerk upward once. His eyes slip shut as his head tips back on a sigh, and he’s acutely aware of the comforter beneath him, the scratch of the fabric against his back.

Then someone’s kissing him, an insistent tongue delving into his mouth and tracing his teeth. He reaches a hand up to tangle a hand in James’s hair, tugging slightly to get James to tilt his head for a better angle. Beau shivers, body tingling because it’s _too much_. Paul lets him go, pats his thigh gently, and Beau is kind of grateful because he needs a minutes to get his bearings. James breaks their kiss and sits up so they can both watch Robert kiss the taste of Beau from Paul’s mouth, Paul tipping his head back and letting Robert take all he wants.

Beau wraps a hand around James’s thigh and tugs until the older boy gets it and straddles his chest. He eases his cock into Beau’s waiting mouth, stroking a gentle hand through Beau’s hair. Beau opens up, lets James fuck his mouth as he pleases. James keeps the rhythm fairly slow and shallow, though his hips twitch and buck every couple of strokes. Beau can tell he’s close by the way he’s restraining himself.

“Fuck, Beau. Can I come on your face?” he grits out.

Beau hums an affirmative, and James slips out. He’s about to wrap a hand around his cock when a skinnier hand beats him to it, and Paul appears behind him, hooking his chin over James’s shoulder and stroking him with an obviously experienced and practiced rhythm. It doesn’t take James long after that, and he falls forward when he comes, catching himself with a hand just above Beau’s head. Beau closes his eyes, gasps a little when he feels the first wave of it hit his face. James stripes him, then falls, boneless, to lay beside him. Then Paul’s there, kissing Beau, mouth straying a few times to clean him up, but always coming back to his mouth to give Beau a taste. When Paul sits up again, he’s got come at the corner of his mouth, and it’s Robert diving in to kiss it away.

It’s so much, the four of them like this. There’s always someone there to pick up the thread, and Beau loves it.

“I love you boys,” he breathes.

The other three turn to him, and he feels his face heat. “Um.”

“We love you too, Beau,” Paul says quietly, a hand stroking gently up Beau’s thigh.

“Always love you, Beau,” Robert adds. “And . . .” He blushes, looking nervously through his lashes at Paul. “You both, too.”

“Love you, Borts,” Paul smiles, kisses Robert once softly.

“I love everybody on this bed,” James says, flailing out at nothing.

“Very eloquent, James,” Paul says, although his smile is fond.

“Eloquent, schmeloquent,” James grumbles.

Paul tips Robert over so he’s on his back next to James.

“What’s up, Bortsy?” James says. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“What,” Beau says from beside him, not even bothering to make it a question.

“James gets like this after two orgasms,” Paul says, and Beau wants to hear him say ‘orgasm’ for the rest of his life, but then the older man is settling himself between Robert’s thighs, and his mouth is suddenly busy.

Robert makes a noise of surprise, and Beau needs to get to him like _now_. He drags himself out of the warm indent he’s made in the comforter and drapes himself over James’s chest, and leans in to kiss Robert. James grumbles at him, swatting Beau on the ass, but that just makes Beau’s hips jerk. Robert whimpers into the kiss, and Beau returns it when James’s hand slips up between his thighs, fingertips teasing over his hole.

Beau breaks the kiss to moan, “Fuck, James, please.” And then Robert’s got a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him back down.

James moves, and Beau hears the _snap_ of the lid, and then there’s a slick, slightly cold fingertip circling his entrance teasingly.

“James,” he gasps before Robert is kissing him deep again. James slips his fingertip inside, moving minutely to get Beau to open up for him. He thumbs at Beau’s rim a couple times before slipping his finger in to the last knuckle. Beau sighs into Robert’s mouth, then squeaks when James quickly follows with a second finger. He moves gently for now, not trying to get Beau off just yet. Beau lets himself get lost in the two sensations. It’s the slight hitch of Robert’s breath that draws him out of his reverie, and then he emits an embarrassingly high-pitched sound when James’s fingers find his prostate and _press_. He hears James snort a laugh, and he would tell him to shut up, but he can’t even form a coherent _thought_ right now.

He rests his forehead on Robert’s. “They’re so good for us,” he mumbles with a smile as James and Paul drive them crazy at the same time, like they’d planned it. Robert hums an agreement before his own embarrassing noise slips through his lips. Beau smiles and kisses him, neither of them really having any coordination, but not caring.

They come at the same time, cursing and shivering together. There’s hands pushing at Beau while he’s trying to come down, and he lets them move him, tucks himself against Robert’s side so they can catch their breath together.

“Fuck, Paulie,” he hears James murmur and he cracks his eyes open to see Paul kneeling over James, licking away the come, Beau’s come, on his belly.

He sits up. “Who wants some?” he asks, opening his mouth to show them the viscous mess on his tongue.

Robert pounces, knocking Paul back against the bed, and Paul laughs, but the sound is soon swallowed up by Robert’s mouth.

“Hey, save some for the rest of us,” James says, weakly swatting at Robert.

Robert moves aside, and James crawls over lazily, like a cat, to kiss the last of it from Paul’s mouth. Once he’s satisfied, he flops to the side again. “Beau, you gotta lay off the coffee, man.”

Beau blushes, and Paul smiles at him, leans forward to kiss him chastely once. “You taste fine, honey.”

“Your turn,” James says, somewhere near the head of the bed, and then Paul just short of yelps.

Beau cranes his neck around to see James with his hands on Paul’s hips, nothing but the uppermost mess of his curls visible over the swell of Paul’s ass.

“James, I can’t,” Paul gasps. “I’m an old man, and I already came once tonight. I c-can’t, fuck, can’t go again tonight.”

“We’ll see about that,” James says. “Boys, should we prove him wrong?”

Beau grins and gets up to crawl over and position himself on his back beneath Paul, still on his hands and knees. The angle’s kind of awkward, but he takes the older man’s cock in his mouth anyway. He can’t get a rhythm at this angle, but then there are hands on his hips, manhandling him until he’s laying parallel to Paul, tucked down between his thighs. He’s able to find an easy rhythm at this angle, and it seems to be working for Paul as the older man rocks his hips back and forth between their mouths on him, even through his weakening protests.

The protests are suddenly cut off, and Beau pulls off for a moment to tilt his head up to see Robert kissing Paul, hands running over his chest, thumbing over his nipples. Beau grins, because they’re going to get Paul off _together_. He turns back to the matter at hand. Paul’s cock, hanging thick and heavy, brushes against Beau’s cheek, leaving a sticky trail of precome there. Beau giggles and takes Paul back into his mouth.

With their combined stimulation, it doesn’t take them long to get Paul off. He comes with something just short of a shout, spilling into Beau’s mouth.

“Fuck,” Paul grits, and Beau just manages to roll out of the way before the older man collapses on the bed. A body does come down on top of him though as James dives in to kiss the taste of Paul from Beau’s mouth. He goes in tongue first, and Beau gets a taste of Paul that he remembers from the first time they did this. He whimpers a little at that. There’s a gentle hand stroking through his hair that might belong to Paul or might belong to Robert, Beau isn’t sure.

“You three are too much,” Paul murmurs.

“You love us,” Robert says, and Beau hears them kissing.

They all take a moment to just lay there under the spinning ceiling fan, sweat drying on their skin. They’re all sated, might not move again until morning Beau thinks. As if on instinct, they move towards each other, curling together, and forming a pile of limbs on top of the covers, and one by one, they drop off to sleep.

*********

The next morning, Beau wakes up tangled between Robert and James. Paul’s up and out of bed already, the smell of coffee warming the house. Beau carefully extracts himself from between the boys, laughing to himself when they curl into each other to make up for the loss of his body heat. Then he shivers because it’s fucking cold and steals a pair of sweats from Paul’s dresser. They have an 18 on the leg, and that makes Beau smile stupidly as he pads down the stairs to the kitchen. Paul’s there, still looking a little sleepy around the edges, but he smiles at Beau and passes him a cup, which Beau takes with a nod of thanks. They eventually have to go upstairs and literally roll the other two off the bed. They spend the day packing up, leaving the bedroom, kitchen, and den alone for now. After a long day of loading stuff onto a truck, they don’t speak, just go to bed to take each other apart like it’s their last time.

They’ll have to go soon. But for now, they can hold on.

They finish packing up Paul’s house a few days later and then James drags them back upstairs so they can fuck in the bedroom floor one last time. Beau‘s gonna have rug burn on his ass for days, but he loves his boys, and he doesn‘t mind.

The next day, the house goes on the market, and they move into Beau’s house. There, Robert smiles and runs a hand over the closed lid of the baby grand. Beau gets out his special polish and dusts every inch of the piano before lifting the lid and playing a few scales to make sure it’s still tuned. One by one, his boys appear and sit down quietly, waiting. Beau closes his eyes, takes a breath . . . And starts to play. The music takes over Beau as the crescendos rise and the decrescendos fall, the tempo goes from allegro to andante and back again. And finally, he runs out of music and lets the last notes fade out before dropping his hands from the keys. His boys applaud, and then Beau turns a sunny smile on them. He plays another song, and after that, Paul kisses him on top of the head and goes to the kitchen to cook for them. Pretty soon, the house is filled with the sounds of beautiful music and the smells of a home cooked meal. The song and the meal finish at the same time, and they actually set the table to sit down and eat. It’s a really nice evening. Paul breaks out a bottle of wine and some fancy glasses, from where, Beau will never know. They stay up late and drink, talking quietly and often devolving into giggle fits.

Finally, the clock chimes midnight, and they go upstairs, pink-cheeked and tripping over each other a little on the stairs. When they get upstairs, Beau isn’t quite sure which bedroom they should go to. He quickly decides to take them to his bedroom, because the door to Robert’s room is still closed. It’s where they began, where they loved for hours on end, where they slept side by side even when they were what felt like a million miles apart . . . So Beau takes them to his room. The bed’s smaller than they’ve been sleeping in, but they make it work, seemingly without effort. They get ready and curl up together, Robert cuddling Beau just like old times. And they sleep.

*********

They continue to live together in Beau’s house, and it’s really nice. They develop their routines. They learn to move around each other at the bathroom sink of the mornings when James is fixing his hair and the other three are trying to brush their teeth. They work out together at a quiet little gym where they won’t be questioned for being there together. Of the nights, they come home, and Paul cooks dinner while Beau plays the piano for them. Sometimes his boys bring him sheet music, and sometimes he plays songs from memory or by ear. When it gets late, they’ll either pile up on the couch to watch movies or they’ll stumble up the stairs, hands fumbling at each other’s clothes until Paul finally guides them to Beau’s room, and they tumble down onto the bed together to take each other apart before snuggling up to sleep.

It’s pretty much perfect . . . Except for the looming expiration date. As the calendar flips to August, Beau becomes more aware of it, and it’s distressing him. He doesn’t want to give this up. Doesn’t want his boys to leave.

He’s maybe withdrawing a little, and his boys pick up on his unease. It’s Paul that approaches him, always the one that comes forward when someone needs to talk.

“Hey, Beau,” he says casually one day, coming into the den where Beau’s been hiding and watching Spongebob. He sits beside the younger boy, holds an arm out in offering, and Beau cuddles up against him, because there’s no use fighting it. Paul kisses him on top of the head. “What’s wrong, babe?”

“I don’t want you guys to leave me,” Beau mumbles, turning his face against Paul’s shoulder.

Paul pulls him closer, holds him tighter. “You can’t dwell on it, Beau,” he says softly. “Our time together is limited, and it sucks, but we should make the most of the time while we have it, yeah? Don’t let the fact that it’s eventually going to run out ruin the time we have left together. Enjoy it while we have it, okay?”

Beau nods against Paul’s shoulder.

“Besides,” Paul says. “I think James misses his cuddle-buddy.”

Beau has to hide a stupid little smile against Paul’s shirt.

“Goof,” Paul teases, messing up Beau’s hair a little. “You worry too much.”

Beau nods again. “I know. But . . . I’m young, and this thing we have is . . . It’s so great, but it’s so new and . . . I don’t know. Fragile. I guess I’m just scared of what’s going to happen . . . After.”

“What’s going to happen is that on October twenty-fourth, the Preds will be here. Sharks on the twenty-first of November and the Blues on the twenty-fifth. What’s going to happen is that the day after each of these dates, you’re not going to be able to walk straight, and you are going to _know_ that we love you enough to go through all of this to stay together. What’s going to happen . . . Is we’re going to have our first official Skype date the day before the season starts. Wear something nice, would you?”

“Button-down, no pants,” Beau says.

Paul laughs. “I think that will work out just fine.”

Paul eventually coaxes him out of the den, even convinces him to play them some music while he cooks. James and Robert sit on either side of him on the bench, and Beau tries to teach James how to play Chopsticks.

So they spend their last full month together, and they make the most of it.

*********

September comes, and they have to start going their separate ways. They put it off for as long as they can, but they can’t avoid it forever.

Paulie’s the first to leave. After all, he has a new city to figure his way around. The night before he leaves, the other three agree to indulge one of his fantasies, and that’s how they all three end up tied to the bed and to each other, able to do only what he tells them they’re allowed to. He wears them down, strings them out, makes them wait. It’s the best kind of torture, and when Beau’s finally allowed to come, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to feel anything but on edge ever again.

The next morning proves this notion false. He wakes slowly, mentally mapping the bodies on either side of him, Robert curled around his back, James snuggled up to his front. He stretches, reaches, for the remaining boy, but his fingertips find only cold sheet. He shakes himself awake, sits upright. Paul’s gone. There’s a note on the nightstand, an apology and a promise to Skype when he makes it to San Jose.

Beau’s heart breaks a little.

The other boys finally wake, and they struggle with breakfast for an hour before giving up and going to IHOP. The food is too processed, and none of them really feel like talking. Robert tucks Beau under his arm, and James stretches across to tangle their ankles together. They get home in time for the Skype call, and on the screen, Paul looks like he’s been traveling all day, exhausted and harried. He promises them that he loves them, apologises again for leaving without telling them, that he hoped it would be easier. They stay up late talking. Beau’s the first to fall asleep, and he doesn’t know how long the others stay up talking.

*********

Robert is the next to leave, and he and Beau spend the day together, just the two of them before he does. James says something about Pascal being back in town and needing to go hassle him and disappears early in the morning, kissing them both before he goes and promising that he’ll see them later. Robert’s flight isn’t until late that night, so he and Beau have the day and the house to themselves.

When they get out of the shower together, they tumble down onto the bed, already wrapped up in each other. When Robert pushes inside of Beau, the smaller boy stretches against the sheets, and the space feels too big with just the two of them, but then Robert’s kissing him, starting to move, and Beau stops thinking. After, they make it downstairs to the couch. Then Robert puts Beau on his knees on the piano bench, hands propped on the lid covering the keys. His hands press what will be bruises into Beau’s hips, like he’s afraid to let go, like he wants Beau to remember.

They make it to the couch again. Then to the kitchen counter. The dining room table. Then they end up under the piano before going back upstairs and hiding behind the frosted glass door of the shower where they trap too-honest endearments between them. Promises, secrets, words of love and more than that. Beau thinks, it’s useless to say all these things because the way Robert looks at him says more than words ever could, but he’ll take these promises, secrets, words of love and more than that, and he’ll keep them with him always, tucked into his pockets and under his sweater, hidden under his ribcage, beside his heart.

When they make it to the bed again, Beau’s tired, so tired, but he’s determined to stay awake, soak up every second he can. Robert holds him close, kisses him so softly, like he’s afraid Beau’s going to shatter physically when he shatters emotionally.

The time comes, and there’s a cab outside. Beau moves to walk Robert out, but Robert puts a hand on his shoulder, pushes him gently back against the bed.

“Stay here,” he says, voice broken, and it sounds like he’s begging Beau to just stay. Beau doesn’t move. He doesn’t move as he listens to Robert quietly get dressed and grab his bag. He closes his eyes and feels the heat swell behind his eyelids, tries to calm his shuddering breaths. He’s slipping.

Robert reappears, kisses each cheek and then Beau’s mouth, and Beau can taste the salt. He surges up, crushes himself against Robert, kisses him until his lungs are burning, his head light. Robert breaks the kiss, holds Beau up, keeps him from falling, from breaking apart, and peppers him with feather light kisses, anywhere he can reach. Beau stays still and lets him, lets the heat sear down his face. Robert cups his cheek, brushes away Beau’s tears with a gentle thumb.

“Beau, don’t cry,” he murmurs, but Beau _can’t_. He clings, even as Robert starts to extract himself. Beau wants to _scream_ for him to come back. His hands scrabble for purchase, but they’re shaking, and when Robert captures both of them between his own, Beau goes still again, blinks watery eyes at him.

“Beau, I love you,” Robert whispers, like the words are tearing him apart as much as they’re destroying Beau.

“I love you,” Beau says, his voice soft, broken. He tries again, because these words have to be stronger. Robert has to _know_ , has to believe them. “Borts, I love you.”

“I love you, Beau,” Robert says, soft, and Beau feels the words strike his heart, tear inside and begin to take root. It hurts even as it’s keeping him steady, the strength of Robert’s love entering him, making him stronger.

Robert kisses him one last time, so soft Beau barely feels it except for how he feels it with his whole body, and then Robert’s just gone. Beau sits back on his heels, stares at nothing for hours until James comes back. He doesn’t eat that night, and James doesn’t try to make him. He doesn’t try to cuddle him later that night either until Beau surges across the cold expanse of sheet between then, all but launching himself into James’s arms. James holds on to him while he shakes through another bout of intense sadness, emptiness. But not aloneness. Beau isn’t alone. James is here, here for him. He doesn’t say a word, just holds on to Beau, lets him take what he needs, and somehow, Beau is able to eventually find sleep.

*********

James hangs around a while longer, and keeps Beau from thinking. For the next week, every time Beau starts looking sad, James will kiss him and stick a hand down his shorts or bend him over the back of the couch or drop to his knees in front of him. They trap their sadness between them and then fuck it out of each other until all they can feel is soreness.

It’s not always about what they’re missing. Sometimes it’s just them. Like the morning James tries to make breakfast, failing epically of course, and Beau chirps him, and James presses him back against the counter with an _oh yeah?_ and a challenge. When James lays him back against the cool countertop, it’s them and them alone. Together.

For a week, it’s really nice. Their boys Skype, and they talk, sometimes as a group, sometimes in pairs, and it gets easier. They figure it out.

But eventually, James has to leave too. After a lazy morning spent in bed, he and Beau get dressed and go downstairs together. The cab’s waiting outside, but seeing it doesn’t make Beau feel like falling apart. It makes him hopeful, makes him excited for the next time he’ll get to see each of his boys. James presses him back against the door and kisses him soundly, then backs away down the sidewalk, looking apologetic. He gives a little wave that Beau returns, and then he’s gone too. Beau watches the cab disappear around a corner, and he takes a moment to sit on the doorstep and think about his boys, how much he loves them, how great this is going to be. Eventually a wind picks up, and he shivers, stands, and retreats inside. The silence of an empty house hits him like a train, and . . .

And then Beau’s alone, and he wishes they hadn’t stayed here so he wouldn’t be the one getting left behind . . . .


End file.
